


Fate (The Red String Remix)

by Evoxine



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst with a Happy Ending, Denial, Eventual Romance, Falling In Love, M/M, Red String of Fate, rated mature just in case
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 06:54:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16849255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evoxine/pseuds/Evoxine
Summary: A red string appears tied around Sehun's pinky one day, invisible to everyone else in the school but a certain math enthusiast.





	Fate (The Red String Remix)

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written and posted on LJ in **2014**. Apart from a quick read through to fix typos and stuff, **I did not edit much of the fic**.

Sehun’s falling asleep to his Sociology professor’s nasally voice, eyelids wondrously heavy and the lull of his forearm much too strong for him to fight. But just before his forehead topples onto his arm, a tug on his pinky has him looking over to his right hand quizzically. There, looped around his middle phalanx, is a thin, red strand of what appears to be cotton. Blinking, Sehun runs the pad of his thumb across the string, the strand almost too thin for his nerves to pick up. Sehun makes to pull his hand closer, but his action triggers some sort of movement of the string – Sehun leans closer to the edge of his desk and gapes at the sight of a river made up of the single red strand. It weaves around his classmates’ feet, disappearing under backpacks and folders, before snaking out of the classroom door. There’s still a solid twenty minutes left of class, and Sehun frowns at the clock as he tugs gently on the string – no one around him seems to be able to see it; no one reacts even when he wiggles the string in waves.

The shrill ring of the bell is Sehun’s cue to jump up out of his seat, throwing pens and pencils into his backpack before slotting his notebook in carefully – he likes his pages crisp and smooth, thank you very much. Picking up his textbook with his left hand, Sehun keeps his right hand free for navigation. He makes a quick pit stop at his locker, pushing his textbook in and locking it in record time. Glad that he has a free study period (in other words, a full hour to waste), Sehun sets off on a quest to follow the mysterious red string. Half-expecting this to be a very elaborate prank, Sehun turns corners cautiously, preferring to walk in a bigger arc than usual, just in case one of his mischievous friends (read: Byun Baekhyun) decides to jump out at him.

Oddly enough, the walk, although long, was entirely uneventful. Sehun walks up and down different flights of stairs, turns into corridors he barely knew existed, and finally finds himself facing one of the study rooms located in the corner of the library. Looking around to see if anyone has noticed that he’s looking at a closed door with a red string attached to his pinky, Sehun’s relieved to see that there’s barely a soul around. Knocking, Sehun doesn’t wait for an answer before pushing the door open.

“Hello?”

Peering around the door, Sehun’s astonished to find the school’s math prodigy seated by himself at the desk, surrounded by a pile of books, pen in hand. They don’t interact much – they’ve only really talked (and even then they would just exchange pleasantries) during dance practice a year ago, and after he quit the team, they've stopped talking altogether – but from what Sehun has experienced, the math enthusiast is a kind soul.

“Hi?” Kim Jongin answers, eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

“Um,” Sehun says, and glances down at his hand reflexively. Jongin follows Sehun’s gaze and promptly chokes on a glob of spit.

Sehun’s head shoots up at the loud hacking and he sees Jongin’s index finger pointing at the general area of his hand.

“You can see it?” Sehun asks, and Jongin nods furiously.

He sets his pen down and lifts his right hand. There, knotted around his pinky, is the other end of the red string.

 

 

 

  
“What does this mean?” Sehun asks, sliding into a chair opposite Jongin. Jongin pushes a pile of books out of the way (the title of the top book reads: Advanced Engineering Mathematics) and wets his lips.

“I don’t know,” he replies, voice soft. “I was working in here since nine in the morning, and it wasn’t there then. I think I noticed it around lunch time, but I decided to put off discovering what it was until I left for home. But I guess I don’t have to anymore,” he finishes, gesturing at Sehun’s finger.

“Hmm,” Sehun mumbles, more to himself than to the boy seated across from him. “The red string seemed to appear out of nowhere on my hand, too.”

Jongin gazes at Sehun for a second too long – he flushes and ducks his head, the nib of his pen returning to scratching at paper.

Sehun doesn’t seem to have noticed.

“Connected by a red string. A string only we seem to be able to see –“

“Oh my god,” Jongin interrupts. His eyes are wide and Sehun doesn’t know why he’s suddenly so animated.

“Come with me,” Jongin blurts, jumping up from his chair and bolting to the door. Sehun barely has time to open his mouth before Jongin is out the door. Rising, Sehun looks at the string curiously – it doesn’t seem to ever run out; there’s no visible tension in the string, something he’d noticed when he reached the study room. The distance from his Sociology classroom to this room in the library is quite a long one, but the string had stayed slack the entire time. Sehun follows the string out of the room and past rows of tables before he comes to a stop at the Japanese Culture aisle.

“What are you looking for?” Sehun asks curiously, peering over Jongin’s shoulder.

“This,” Jongin says breathlessly, pushing a thick, dusty volume into Sehun’s hands.

Sehun’s eyes float halfway down the page before stopping at where Jongin’s index finger rests.

A bolded subheading reads: 赤い糸 : **The Red String of Fate**

Two paragraphs, one in Japanese and one in English, lie below the heading.

_The red string of fate, also referred to as the red thread of destiny, red thread of fate, and other variants, is an East Asian belief originating from Chinese legend and is also used in Japanese legend. According to this myth, the gods tie an invisible red string around the ankles of men and women who are destined to be soul mates and will one day marry each other. Often, in Japanese culture, it is thought to be tied around the little finger._

_The two people connected by the red thread are destined lovers, regardless of time, place or circumstances. This magical cord may stretch or tangle, but never break. This myth is similar to the Western concept of soulmates or a twin flame._

Sehun lets out a laugh of incredulity. The sound trails off after a few startling seconds, and Sehun returns to staring at the slightly faded words. He’s still for so long that the dust settles back onto the pages, light grey peppering stiff, aged paper.

"This is ridiculous," Sehun says abruptly. "Absolutely ridiculous."

Slamming the book shut, Sehun pushes it into Jongin's hands and turns on his heel, bolting down the aisle and around the corner. Jongin watches the string move and the book suddenly seems a hell of a lot heavier.

 

 

 

  
The very next day, Sehun makes a conscious effort to avoid Jongin. He walks in the opposite direction the red string points towards, willingly taking the longest possible way to class just to steer clear of him. He's tried everything he could to get that red string off his finger, but it refuses to budge. He had used scissors, fire, nail clippers... basically anything sharp or hot. But nothing worked. He gritted his teeth that night and dove right into bed. He hadn't slept well, which makes avoiding Jongin today all the harder to do. He finds himself following the red string on more than one occasion, seemingly walking in a daze.

It's lunch break, and Sehun makes a mad dash to the cafeteria to grab a large cup of coffee before Jongin gets to the cafeteria too. He's got the cup in his hands and he's making his way to the library when he notices that the string isn't pointing back towards the cafeteria but instead towards the library. Groaning, Sehun turns on his heel and makes a beeline for one of the tables outside the building. People rarely sit there in the summer; the sun seems to find that tender spot on the back of necks too easily. It burns, but Sehun will suck it up if he wants to hide from Jongin.

Is Jongin even looking for him? Sehun thinks, before promptly flushing and telling himself to stop imagining stupid scenarios that will probably never happen. Sehun's taking a gulp of coffee when he feels his phone buzz against his thigh.

**From: Byun Baek**  
_where are you? don't tell me you're studying during lunch._

**To: Byun Baek**  
_i'm outside. getting some sun and shit._

Sehun sets his phone down and sighs. A few minutes later he hears footsteps and assumes it's Baekhyun – instead when he looks up, he finds himself looking into the dark eyes of Jongin.

"Why are you out here?" Jongin asks, fingers jammed into the too-tight pockets of his jeans.

"It's lunch. I eat out here," Sehun lies, scrunching his eyes up against the glare.

"No, you don't. I see you in the cafeteria every day without fail."

Sehun busies himself by taking another mouthful of coffee.

"Wanted some sun today," Sehun tries, but he can tell Jongin is taking none of his bullshit.

"It's not as if I asked for this string to magically appear on us both, you know," Jongin says tightly, "I'm not the bad guy here."

Sehun doesn't even have time to formulate a response before Jongin's halfway across the courtyard. The string connecting them barely trembles despite Jongin's movements.

 

 

 

 

Relationships, much less the idea of love, rarely spring into Sehun’s mind. His track record isn’t impressive in the least – he’s only ever dated one person in his lifetime. That relationship was lacklustre and that's putting it lightly. Two years ago, Baekhyun had told him that a fellow sophomore had taken a liking to him, and that they’d look cute together. More curious than anything, Sehun had asked who the sophomore was, and ended up extremely surprised at the fact that she turned out to be Krystal Jung, the school’s star violinist.

Baekhyun spent a good few weeks convincing Sehun to ask Krystal out on a date; after all, she was relatively popular and going out with her would definitely up Sehun’s creds. Besides, the idea of a star violinist and a star dancer dating would get the school buzzing either way. Sehun had only finally given in when Baekhyun let out an uncharacteristic shriek right in his ear – he asked Krystal out the very next day; he managed to stutter throughout the entirety of Baekhyun’s pre-written speech and ended up with an insanely red face. Krystal seemed to not notice, however, eyes glazed and a dopey smile plastered across her face.

Krystal wasn’t a bad girlfriend; in fact, she was a fantastic one. She picked up on Sehun’s likes and dislikes easily, knew the sore spots on Sehun’s shoulders like they were on the back of her hand, and doted on him effortlessly. The problem was, Sehun’s feelings for her never went past the boundaries of friendship. After eight months of painfully one-sided love on Krystal’s side, Sehun broke up with her, citing loss of interest as his reason. Krystal had cried, tears sliding down her fair cheeks too fast for Sehun to catch. Worse still, he had to spend fifteen minutes with a sobbing Krystal as she went around his house to retrieve her things that she’d leave there whenever she came over. He bid her goodbye with an apologetic hug coupled with the swipe of thumbs across her cheeks. Thankfully, they had stayed amicable after that, but Sehun can hardly categorise them as friends now.

That experience wasn’t an amazing one, the entire picture-perfect idea of first loves and the like having crumbled into pieces around Sehun’s frame like a fallen angel’s broken halo. Since then, Sehun had shelved the idea of love and relationship, having decided to go back to it one day when he’s ready. He’s a senior now, and still nowhere near ready for a blind date set up by Baekhyun, much less for the introduction of a soulmate via a goddamned red string.

 

 

 

  
The distance between Sehun and Jongin has managed to stay above several hundred metres for the past few weeks, making Sehun’s shock completely understandable when he walks into dance practice one day and sees Jongin there, chatting animatedly to the dance coach.

As if sensing Sehun’s presence, Jongin turns around and fixes those chocolate eyes on him. They don’t greet each other, and it takes a few pregnant seconds before Jongin looks away. Sehun feels dread pool in the hollow of his bones when the coach introduces Jongin as a new-but-not-exactly-new member and has him stand in the row right behind Sehun.

Sehun tries to forget about Jongin’s presence, but it’s not easy when he has to worry about tripping over the red string with every step that he takes – the string doesn’t seem to get in the way at all, but Sehun’s too high-strung to notice. Practice, for once, seems to drag on forever, and by the time the coach dismisses them, Sehun’s so ready to go home and fall asleep in his shower.

He’s the first one out of the studio that day, and back inside, Jongin watches the string lead out the door with heavy eyes.

 

 

 

  
Because Jongin, unlike Sehun, has an almost innocent-like outlook on love and the entire idea of soulmates. He takes them very seriously, the notions something magical and softly ethereal, warmth emitting from their positions in Jongin’s heart. The appearance of the red string seemed to have triggered something in Jongin – the need for love that he’s somehow managed to suppress for the past eighteen years. He finds himself glancing to the direction in which the string is pointing towards countless times through the day, even looking at it at night when he’s in bed and wondering if Sehun’s in bed too. Sehun’s blatant attempts to avoid him send poison-tipped spikes straight through his heart, but the thought of Sehun being his soulmate sends a speedy antidote to counter the pain of the spreading poison.

Rejoining the dance club was a risky move on Jongin’s part. It could do one of two things: push Sehun even farther away from Jongin’s grasp or bring them closer together. It’s a gamble, and although romantic feelings are still non-existent, Jongin wants to know what it would feel like to be in love. He refuses to think of the possibility that his potential feelings may end up unreciprocated. Being in the dance club takes up a ridiculous amount of time, and between class work and his own studies on math, Jongin will literally be busy every second of the day. But it’s okay, he tells himself, because this is for the good of his future.

Stepping into the dance studio – same room, he notes – Jongin sets his backpack down and waves to the coach. His decision to quit the team last year was due to his desires to focus on further developing his math skills, and it didn’t make his coach very happy. Getting back in the team was one of the easiest things Jongin has ever done; a few carefully chosen words and his coach had welcomed him back with open arms. Quite literally. Heading over, Jongin allows his coach to strike up casual conversation, and he falls easily into the banter. All of a sudden there’s heat on the back of his head, and Jongin turns around to see Sehun staring at him, eyes wide and lips parted. Jongin stares back, taking in the flush around the curves of Sehun’s cheeks before looking away.

Practice wasn’t easy for a couple of reasons. One, Jongin hasn’t danced for months, and his body needs time to get used to the phenomenon of rhythm. Two, he’s right behind Sehun, and it’s very distracting to say the least. He’s already known that Sehun’s a great dancer, but he’s never paid this much attention before. Also, Sehun’s little weird movements here and there – Jongin assumes that the string’s presence is bothering his footwork – add to the distraction.

The ninety minutes are over before Jongin knows it, and he’s dripping with sweat, breath taken away. He’s in the middle of fishing out his bottle of water when he hears the door open; looking up, he sees Sehun’s back disappear out of the doorframe. Jongin sighs.

 

 

 

  
Muttering under his breath about darned forgotten assignments, Sehun hurries into the library and climbs the stairs towards the top floor. He’s hoping that there’ll be a free study room; after all, it’s after school hours on Friday, why would anyone stay and study? He exhales in relief when he finds one, but just as he’s about to head in and start on his lab report, he sees the red string disappear under the door of the study room next to his.

Dithering, Sehun bounces on the balls of his feet before gritting his teeth and setting his bag down on the table, walking out of the study room after that and heading over to Jongin’s. He peeks inside and is surprised to see a snoozing Jongin. There’s his trusty pile of mathematics textbooks next to his head, and there’s a similarly tall pile of empty energy drink cans stacked right next to it. Deciding not to go inside and cause Jongin to wake, Sehun returns to his room and stares at his hands for a long while before remembering that he has a lab to start and finish by 8 P.M. that night. Groaning, he pulls out his laptop and sinks straight into work.

It’s 7:49 P.M., and Sehun’s hitting the _Print_ button. Darting outside to grab his lab, Sehun stops on his way there and peers into Jongin’s room. Jongin’s awake now, fingers of his left hand pressed against his forehead and right hand busy scribbling away in his notebook. Grabbing his stack of papers, Sehun staples them together and makes a mad dash for the homework cubicle his Biology professor had kindly set up for his students in the library.

Relieved of homework pressure for the time being, Sehun heads back to the study room at a much slower pace. His eyes flick to Jongin’s room automatically, and he balks when he sees Jongin looking back at him. Speedwalking the last few metres, Sehun stuffs all his notes and laptop into his bag, shouldering it in one swift move. He feels Jongin’s eyes on his back as he takes the stairs two at a time. The feeling lingers even after Sehun leaves the building.

 

 

 

  
The second time Sehun heads into the library after school and stumbles across a snoozing Jongin, who has his hands splayed across the surface of the desk and his cheek flat on his forearm, Sehun thinks about waking Jongin up and telling him to go home and rest. So he does just that. Knocking, Sehun doesn’t wait for a reply before he opens the door and walks in. Jongin jerks upright and squints at him.

“Sehun?”

“Yeah. Uh, I just wanted to tell you that you look like death.”

“Thanks?” Jongin flushes in embarrassment and attempts to flatten his hair discreetly.

“No, I didn’t mean that,” Sehun flounders, flapping a hand. “I meant that you should go home and rest. I’m sure whatever math you’re doing right now can wait for a night?”

Jongin looks from Sehun’s face to his open notebook and sighs. “I guess so. I mean, I haven’t spent as much time as I usually do on math because dance practice takes up quite a lot of time. I try to make up for it but I always fall asleep halfway through no matter how much caffeine I have.”

“Go home,” Sehun repeats. “And don’t study when you get home.”

Jongin cracks a smile and caps his pen. “Okay. I’ll go home.”

Sehun nods awkwardly and rubs at the back of his neck. “Okay. I’ll uh, see you around then.”

Turning on his heel, Sehun exits the study room and leaves Jongin staring at the closed door.

 

 

 

  
“Sehun?”

Sehun glances towards the classroom door and sees Jongin’s trademark messy head of hair sticking around the frame. The red string peeks out from behind Jongin’s back.

“Can I come in? The library’s packed and I walked by and saw you here…”

There’s no one else in the room; the only people who use this particular classroom anymore is the student council, and since there’s no student council meeting today, Sehun had decided to use it for studying; as Jongin had said, the library is packed. He’s got a Biology lab test coming up, and he really wants to ace it.

“Yeah, sure,” Sehun replies, eyes lingering on Jongin’s face for a second longer than necessary before he flicks his eyes back down towards his pile of notes.

“What’re you working on?” Jongin asks, setting his bag down.

“I’ve a Biology lab test this week,” Sehun replies, scribbling onto his notepad before grimacing.

“Good luck,” Jongin offers, and Sehun offers him a vague smile.

A thick textbook is pulled out of Jongin’s bag, and Sehun assumes it’s something related to math. They work in silence, the only sounds filling the room being the flipping of pages and the scratch of pens.

“Why’d you come back to the dance team?” Sehun asks out of the blue, his voice cutting through the silence like a sword through the soft flesh of a watermelon.

“Um,” is Jongin’s response, and Sehun looks over at him, catching the glint of uneasiness in his eyes. The answer dawns on him suddenly.

“You joined the team because of me?”

Jongin’s eyebrows knot and he redirects his attention back to his textbook, flipping a page with a little too much force. It rips down the corner near the spine of the book.

“You’re wasting your time, Jongin,” Sehun mumbles, staring at notes about meiosis. “I don’t believe in any of this.” He holds up his pinky. The string hangs straight down.

Jongin remains silent, but Sehun can tell from the way Jongin’s holding his pen that Jongin is more than a little affected by his words.

 

 

 

 

Somewhere between too-long glances at Sehun’s face whenever they meet, at his back during dance practice, and their brief conversations, Jongin finds himself seriously wondering what it would be like to be with Sehun.

Would it be as soft as his skin looks? As bright as his eyes are? As blush-inducing his smiles are? Jongin thinks it would; he thinks it would be great being with Sehun.

But there’s just one problem – Sehun doesn’t believe in _anything_ related to love like Jongin does.

Pulling his knees up to his chest, Jongin twirls the string around and around his finger. Jongin had a plan before he found that out, a plan to get Sehun to warm up to him and possibly fall in love with him too, but now, Jongin’s more than a little lost.

 

 

 

  
“Sehun, can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Sehun replies, stuffing his empty water bottle into his bag. Dance practice has just ended, and Sehun’s one of the last ones to go because of his need to change out of sweaty clothes whenever possible. He’s gotten used to Jongin’s presence in practice, and after bolting out the door when practice ends the first week or so, he has relaxed enough to fall back into his normal routine.

“I need help to get this routine down,” Jongin continues, rubbing at his neck and forehead with a towel. “There’s too much to process and I’m still rusty.”

“You’re not rusty,” Sehun comments absently, scanning the room for his snapback. “You just think you’re rusty. But yeah okay, I’ll help you.”

“Really?”

Sehun glances over at Jongin when he hears the honest surprise in his voice. “Yeah. Just because I don’t believe in this –” he holds up his hand, “– it doesn’t mean that we can’t get along.”

The light in Jongin’s eyes die a little but Sehun doesn’t notice it.

“I’m free this weekend; feel free to come over whenever,” Sehun says. “Do you still remember the address?”

“Yeah, I do. Thanks. Alright, I’ll see you then?”

Sehun nods and bids Jongin goodbye before leaving the studio.

 

 

 

  
He presses on the doorbell and hears it ring throughout Sehun’s modest house. Jongin picks at the skin on his cuticle as he waits, managing to draw a drop of blood before Sehun opens the door.

“Hey, come in,” Sehun says, stepping aside and letting Jongin in. Their arms brush as Jongin squeezes into the small hallway, and Jongin has to suppress a jump.

“We’ll be working in the garage if that’s okay with you? I have a body length mirror in there so it should be alright.”

Jongin voices his consent and he follows Sehun as they make their way to the garage.

“What don’t you get about the routine?” Sehun asks, keeping his bangs out of his face with a snapback.

Jongin plugs his speakers into his phone and plays the track. He waits until it plays to the section that he’s having trouble with before pointing to the speakers.

“This part.”

Sehun listens and nods when the section runs through. “Okay yeah, I see what you’re struggling with. It’s that really quick eight counts with all the feet movements right?”

“Yeah, and the following eight after that; my transition isn’t smooth and it just messes everything up there too.”

Sehun spends the next forty-five minutes walking Jongin through the steps, manually fixing the angle of his knees and heels, running through the beat and telling Jongin exactly when to turn and when to hit his moves. By the end of the forty-five minutes, they’re both drenched in sweat but Jongin thinks he’s gotten the hang of it.

“Do you want to run through the entire routine? From the top?” Sehun asks, finger on the music player.

“Sounds good,” Jongin says, and Sehun hits the replay button.

Falling into position next to Jongin, Sehun notices the red string curling around their feet, a small pool of red. It’s been staying out of their ways, and Sehun thinks vaguely that it would make a good prop. Jongin notices it too, as well as the small gap between the two of them. Sighing inwardly, Jongin refocuses on the music and lets it take over his limbs.

They run through the routine without a hitch, and Jongin is more than a little pleased when he hits each move in stride with Sehun.

“That was great,” Sehun says, turning the volume down as the next song plays. “I think you got it.”

“Thanks to you,” Jongin says, gulping down a mouthful of water.

Sehun laughs and Jongin wishes he could bottle that sound up and listen to it over and over again.

 

 

 

  
For whatever reason, Jongin finds himself practicing with Sehun every other weekend, cooped up in Sehun’s garage with piles of cardboard boxes all around them.

With every practice session, Jongin’s filled with a little more hope. What he’s hoping for he doesn’t quite know, but it’s nice to have that bubbling feeling in your chest, he thinks.

Sehun seems a lot more relaxed around him, lips curving into beautiful smiles on more than a few occasions, and Jongin’s even managed to hear that laugh a couple more times. Some progress is better than none, Jongin tells himself.

 

 

 

  
“Before I let you all go –”

Sehun pauses from where he’s pulling a fresh shirt out of his sports bag and looks up at his coach.

“– I want to know who’s free over the winter break. Jongin here has offered to coach the middle school dance program this winter break and needs someone to coach alongside him. Girls? Are any of you in town and will be free? It might be a good idea to have a female around just in case the girls get nervous.”

There are several shakes of the head and their coach sighs.

“Alright, well, any others?”

Sehun finds himself straightening, shirt in hand.

“I’ll do it.”

He tells himself that it’s no different to their practices together in his garage.

 

 

 

  
Sleep evades Sehun that night. He’s lying flat on his back, eyes wide open and directed towards the chipping paint on his ceiling. Rolling the string between the thumb and forefinger of his left hand, Sehun chews at the inside of his lip and frowns at the ceiling.

 

 

 

  
It’s the week before winter break starts, and everyone’s thrown headfirst into semester exams. Students are skipping classes to study for that very same class, and the library is packed to the brim all hours of the school day. The café’s making great money but the students are getting crankier by the day.

It’s Monday evening, and Sehun’s had his Sociology exam that day. There’s no time to rest though – tomorrow’s exam is Poli-Sci and he needs to squeeze in some studying for that as well as Wednesday’s exam because dance practice is still going on despite exam week.

He walks past a study room and it takes him a second or two to realise that it’s Jongin in there, seemingly sound asleep. Has he been in there since lunch time? Sehun had passed this very room during lunch as he needed to print something then, and Jongin had been in there, furiously scribbling away on a pad of lined paper. Has he eaten?

Sehun pauses and retraces his steps. Fishing out a sandwich that he had gotten earlier for his study period, Sehun opens the door to the study room as quietly as possible and leaves the sandwich by Jongin’s side before leaving. He didn’t really need it anyway, he reasons with himself as he returns to his desk. He had a heavy lunch after all.

 

 

 

  
Somehow, Sehun finds himself giving Jongin his food every night for the rest of the week. Right before he leaves for home, Sehun will peer into the study room and see that Jongin’s up and working, the sandwich’s cling wrap balled up into a tiny ball on the edge of the table.

It’s Thursday night, and the last night Sehun will have to spend in this miserable library. Checking to see if Jongin’s asleep, Sehun drops off the now-customary sandwich and returns to his desk, diving face first into Physics.

Inside the room, Jongin opens his eyes, completely awake. He watches Sehun walk away from his study room, and the smile he tries to fight down emerges victorious. He’s been curious (very curious) as to who had been leaving him food for the past few days, and the answer is not a let down in any way shape or form.

 

 

 

  
“Sehun!”

Turning around from where he’s stuffing books in his locker – he won’t be needing them over the break! – Sehun sees Jongin jogging towards him.

“Are you still up for the coaching gig?”

“Yeah, of course,” Sehun replies, shutting his locker and jamming his lock shut.

“Great, okay. We start tomorrow, 3-5pm in the studio. It’s once a week so it won’t be too big of a commitment I think. We’re doing basic hip-hop.”

“Sounds good, I’ll see you here tomorrow then.”

 

 

 

  
A sixth grader lands a kick to Sehun’s shin by accident and Jongin bursts out in laughter as Sehun topples to the floor. The boy looks at his writhing coach apologetically but seems to relax after a few moments thanks to Jongin’s incessant laughter.

“This is not funny,” Sehun hisses from where he’s sprawled on the hardwood floor, hands clasped over his shin.

“Kinda is,” Jongin tells him, but steps forward to help him up. Lugging Sehun over to a chair, he pushes Sehun down onto it and tells him to stay.

“Sit until a bruise blooms,” Jongin says, grinning widely before turning around and heading back to the kids.

Sehun pulls the knee of his injured leg up to his chin and uses it as a rest. He watches Jongin help one of the boys with a basic kick ball change. The boy trips over his own feet but Jongin catches him in time, hoisting him upright with a kindly smile. Sehun briefly wonders what it’d be like to be the boy on the receiving end of the smile, but the thought vanishes when Sehun realises that it’s there and he blushes horribly.

Shaking off the ache in his shin, Sehun stands and goes over to the other end of the room, ruffling the hair of a young girl who had just mastered the move.

They work like this for the rest of the class, helping out each child and making sure they’ve got that one basic move down. At the end of the class, the kids’ faces are sweat slicked and the two coaches are satisfied.

“Lollipops!” Jongin declares, pulling out a bag from his backpack. The kids let out a squeal in unison and all but pounce on Jongin – Sehun has to place a hand on the small of Jongin’s back to keep him from losing his balance and falling backwards into the mirror.

He retracts his hand the second he’s sure Jongin wouldn’t fall; Jongin doesn’t say anything, but Sehun knows he felt it. The kids flock out of the studio in groups, some waving goodbye happily and some waving shyly. All of them have a lollipop in their mouths.

“You’re good with kids,” Sehun says, picking up his bag as Jongin turns the stereo off.

“Thanks,” Jongin laughs, “my mother has a friend with three kids and I grew up babysitting them.”

They leave the studio and Jongin locks up.

“Want to grab dinner?” Sehun finds himself asking, and he’s as surprised as Jongin is by his words.

“Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good.”

Sehun clears his throat and shoulders his bag. “There’s this, um, really good ramyun place a couple blocks away. If you like ramyun that is.”

“I love ramyun,” Jongin grins, and Sehun blushes again. He ducks his head and pretends to fumble with the hem of his shirt until the heat in his cheeks fade away.

They walk to the family ramyun store in somewhat comfortable silence which is only broken when they get their food.

“Good _god_ this is good,” Jongin declares, and slurps up a mouthful of noodles.

“I know,” Sehun replies, mirroring his movements. “I’ve been coming here since I was in middle school. I’d save up my pocket money throughout the week and come here Friday after school.”

“Cute,” Jongin comments, chewing on a slice of pork. Sehun chokes on a noodle.

 

 

 

 

It’s the last day of their coaching gig, and during the ten minute break allotted to the kids for water and whatnot, Sehun feels a tug on his sleeve and turns to find large eyes peering up at him.

“Can you and Jonginnie dance for us?” A sweet voice asks, and Sehun blinks down at her.

“Um,” Sehun replies, glancing over to Jongin.

“We can,” Jongin says, returning the gaze. “If you’re okay with it.”

“Uh, yeah. I’m okay with it.”

Jongin turns to the girl and smiles. “We’ll dance for you.”

She claps in excitement and runs back to the group of kids. “Jonginnie says they’ll dance for us!” The kids let out their united squeal before grouping together and taking a seat, expectant eyes fixed on the two.

“Well.” Sehun says. “I guess we’re doing this. The routine we’ve been practicing the past few weeks?”

“Just what I was thinking,” Jongin says, and heads over to the sound system with his phone. He plugs it in and selects the track.

Sehun waits until Jongin joins him on his left before focusing on the music. Their bodies move to the music effortlessly, sharp movements landing right on the beat and fluid ones sliding along it. They finish in sync, and the music fades out. The kids have their jaws hanging open, and their small palms are slapping together rapidly.

“Thank you,” Jongin says sheepishly, giving the kids a grin. Sehun simply fiddles with his hair, a shy, awkward smile on his face.

They finish the class with a freestyle session which ends with Sehun dying of laughter on the floor with a pile of kids on him.

Jongin watches Sehun attempt to wrestle them off with a fond smile on his face – one that Sehun catches when his eyes flick up to Jongin’s face suddenly.

 

 

 

  
Winter break ends on a soft note – Sehun wakes up on the last day of break to see snow falling serenely outside the window. He has no plans whatsoever today, and he finds himself curling up into a ball under his covers, soft fabric comfortable around his limbs.

He’s drifting off into a state of semi-consciousness when the string around his finger tightens slightly. Eyes flying open, Sehun pulls his hand out from under the covers and stares at the string. It seems brighter, the red more pigmented, and Sehun can feel it pulse.

The moment his outstretched fingers brush his phone, it rings. Grabbing it, Sehun answers without looking at the caller ID; he already knows who it is.

“Do you feel it?” He says, phone pressed against his ear.

“Yeah,” Jongin replies, “it’s doing this weird pulsing thing.”

“Mine too,” Sehun comments, and squints at the string. “What does this mean?”

“I have no idea,” Jongin admits. “This is mildly frightening. It’s not stopping.”

Sehun runs his bottom lip through his teeth and discovers an idea hidden somewhere beneath his tongue.

“Are you doing anything today?”

“No,” Jongin replies, “why?”

“Let’s meet; maybe being closer together will solve this mystery.”

When he hangs up, Sehun reminds himself that this means absolutely nothing. A few miles away, Jongin tells himself the same thing.

 

 

 

  
“It...stopped,” Jongin says, awed.

Sehun looks down at his own hand and notes that yes, the pulsing has indeed stopped.

“Huh. That was a wild guess.”

“How did you guess it?”

Sehun pinks despite himself. “Uh, well – today would’ve been the third day in a row we haven’t seen each other; and ever since this string thing we’ve been seeing each other every day, for the most part. Lucky guess though.”

Jongin’s lips twitch but he doesn’t say anything.

“I guess this thing is a lot more… _active_ than I thought it would be,” Sehun mutters, twirling the string around his forefinger.

“Sehun?”

“Hmm?” Sehun looks up at the softness of Jongin’s voice. His heart clenches of its own accord.

“Let me take you out on a date.”

“What – Jongin –”

“Just a day out. Food, a walk in the park, perhaps. I just want to see how the string will react. Please?”

 

 

 

  
“It’s vibrating,” Sehun exclaims, holding up his hand. Jongin simply smiles and tells Sehun to follow him.

“Where are we going?” Sehun asks, shoving his hands into his coat pockets and tugging his beanie lower over his ears.

“I’m bringing you to my favourite fried chicken place,” Jongin says, the excitement evident in his voice. “It’s the best – I promise you that you’ll love it.”

When they get there, Jongin holds the door open for Sehun – Sehun has to will back the heat that’s threatening to rise to the surface of his cheeks.

They take a seat in a corner booth and Jongin orders for both of them. Sehun fiddles with his coat the entire waiting time, but Jongin doesn’t seem as nervous as he does, taking a satisfied sip of iced tea and giving Sehun a small smile.

Their food comes and Jongin recommends the huge drumstick to Sehun. Heaven explodes over his taste buds as Sehun bites down, and Jongin laughs at the comical widening of Sehun’s eyes.

Jongin breaks the silence after polishing off a wing.

“Why do you not believe in it?”

Sehun swallows a mouthful of chicken and shrugs. “It never gave me a reason to.”

“Why?” Jongin asks again, eyes trained on his food.

“I used to dream of the perfect first love,” Sehun tells him, licking a finger clean. “I was so ready for it to be otherworldly and phenomenal. But it wasn’t. It fell short; way short. So I told myself that maybe I wasn’t ready for love – or that love wasn’t meant for me. Either way, it worked. I pushed love aside and it didn’t come looking for me, nor I it.”

“Do you not miss it?”

“What’s there to miss?” Sehun says, chicken forgotten as he looks at Jongin.

“There’s this,” Jongin offers, and reaches out to lace their oily fingers together on the table top.

Sehun’s throat seizes, and so does the string around their fingers. Jongin barely acknowledges it, eyes flicking to the string briefly before returning to their perch on Sehun’s face. On the other hand, Sehun doesn’t even spare the string a glance. His eyes are fixated on their interlocked fingers, and he finds himself in complete awe at how utterly perfect their fingers look together, despite the thin layer of oil.

“Jongin…” Sehun tries, but his hand doesn’t seem to want to budge. Jongin tightens his grip.

“I don’t know how it must have felt, to have a first love that fell short of your dreams. I haven’t experienced mine yet. You’re meant to be mine; to be that wonderful first love everyone’s meant to have.”

Sehun stays silent, and the warmth of Jongin’s fingers warms his up.

“Did you love that person, Sehun?”

“No,” Sehun answers, honest. “I didn’t.”

“So why do you consider that your first love?”

Sehun blinks, taken aback by the very valid question.

 

 

 

  
Kids are playing in the sandbox as they walk past it, now-clean hands in pockets, hidden away from the cold.

“Love’s never let you down, Sehun,” Jongin says, stopping under a tree with a sweeping span. “It can’t let you down if you’ve never loved in the first place.”

Sehun breathes in the crisp air and the faint scent of Jongin’s cologne.

“You were the one who left me food every night during exam week, weren’t you?”

Sehun wets his lips and nods.

“Why?”

“Had a feeling that you needed the food,” Sehun mumbles.

“Do you ever think about me, Sehun? When I’m not around?”

Sehun freezes, the question completely unexpected, and his fingers curl in his pockets. Words lodge themselves in his throat, burying their way through the walls of his oesophagus.

“Do you?” Jongin presses, taking a step closer towards Sehun.

“Yes,” Sehun blurts. “Yes. I do. I do, okay? I find myself lying awake in bed at night and wondering if you were sleeping or still working on math. I think about you after our dance practices, about how you move so beautifully but you still insist on telling yourself that you don’t. I think about you the first thing in the morning, about how perfect you’d look just waking up, hair a mess, covers pulled up to your chin and tangled between your shins. I think about you in class; I wonder if you’re actually paying attention to your teacher or if you’re just scribbling some equation in the margin of your notebook. I do think about you – I think about you all the damn time.”

Jongin closes the distance between them and slips his hand back into Sehun’s. Sehun clenches his jaw at the feeling – god, Jongin’s hand feels amazing in his. The string thrums happily.

“When you told me you didn’t believe in this –” Jongin tugs on the string, “– I felt lost. I was so ready for this challenge; to befriend you, to become close to you, and maybe have you fall in love with me at the same time I would fall in love with you. I was at such a loss when you said what you said. I thought about just forgetting about it all, letting things go back to the way they were when you and I were barely acquaintances. But the idea of being with you just screamed in my head every time I tried to look the other way. I think about you, too, you know? I think about how it would feel to have you hold me, to have your lips pressed against mine. I think about how shy you’d be on an anniversary date because you’d think your present isn’t good enough. I think about you smiling at me, instead of with me.”

Looking down into Jongin’s eyes, Sehun can only detect hope.

“I don’t know what I feel towards you,” Sehun says slowly, “but I do feel something.”

Jongin thumbs at Sehun’s knuckles.

“That’s all we need to give it a shot.”

 

 

 

  
It had taken Sehun some time to get used to the feeling of waking up simmering with happiness. A week into their then-experimental relationship, Sehun had woken up to a text from Jongin and promptly felt his lips split into a wide grin.

Two months into their now-official relationship, Sehun had woken up to a text from Jongin and realised that he’s very much in love with the math-loving dancer. That morning, the string felt warm, the heat pleasant against Sehun’s cool skin.

Now, three and half months into their relationship, they (and all the other seniors) are stressing out over finals and college applications. In addition, Sehun’s stressing out over how to tell Jongin that he’s madly in love with him.

Holed up in Jongin’s favourite study room, Sehun’s pouring over his Biology notes and Jongin’s humming a random tune as he scans his math notes.

“I hate studying,” Sehun mutters, turning away from his notes to push his nose into Jongin’s neck.

Jongin cups the base of Sehun’s head and strokes the soft skin there. “We’re almost done with high school, Sehun. Think about it that way!”

“I don’t know how you do it,” Sehun complains, relaxing at the soft touches. “My mind’s about to burst.”

“I’d tell you to let some of whatever’s in your mind out, but since the majority of what’s in there would be information important for your tests…”

“I love you,” Sehun says. The hand on his neck stills.

Sehun pulls out of Jongin’s hold and looks his boyfriend in the eyes.

“You…do?”

Sehun doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the sheer happiness lacing Jongin’s words.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

Jongin’s pen falls out from between his fingers when Jongin springs forward to press their lips together, hands fisting in Sehun’s collar. Sehun smiles into the kiss, and his heart sings when he feels Jongin smiling in return.

The red string curls around their feet like a content puppy.

 

 

 

  
Graduation comes and goes in a blur – the only thing that stays solid by Sehun’s side is Jongin, hand tucked in his.

Graduation night comes messily – Jongin rocks into Sehun with Sehun’s name on his lips and Sehun forgives first love’s lies bit by bit with every push and pull.

 

 

 

  
**Epilogue:**

“I want lilies,” Jongin says, peering over Sehun’s shoulder at the list that’s slowly growing.

“For the bridesmaids’ bouquets?”

“Yes,” Jongin replies, and Sehun jots a little note down next to ‘lilies’.

“The wedding planner’s going to be here soon; do you have anything else you want to add?”

“Nope; you?”

Sehun purses his lips as he stares at the list.

“Ah yes. Free flow of chocolate.”

Jongin laughs and kisses Sehun’s temple. The doorbell rings then, and Jongin heads over to open the door.

“Hi! It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Jongin says, shaking the wedding planner’s head enthusiastically. “I’m Jongin, and this is Sehun.” Jongin points to Sehun, seated at the dining table. Sehun waves.

The planner returns the greeting and the three exchange pleasantries for a short moment before the planner takes a seat and pulls out a notebook.

“So, before we get into the actual planning, let me just ask; how long have the two of you been together?” She asks, pen at the ready.

“We’ve been dating for six years,” Sehun replies easily, twirling his pen between his fingers. “He’s my soulmate.”

Jongin’s smile lights up the whole room.

**Author's Note:**

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